Horizon
by Flickity Moth
Summary: Things you see on the T.V is usually impersonal. Distant. You never consider that maybe what you see will happen to you. Take Percy for example, he never considered that maybe he was a half-blood; that he would be taken away. But he was wrong. Alternative universe. Eventual Percy/Jason and Percy/Nico.


Percy knew what half bloods were, and what happened to them. He watched the news.

Or he at least knew half of what happened to them. Captured and contained; abandoned pets heading to the shelter. Percy watched the footage of them being lead by officers in bronze vests to Olympus Asylum. Not an insane asylum, it was claimed to be a "Behavioural rehabilitation and refuge for half-bloods". Politics called it the B.R.R.H. Ordinary people called it The "Brarf". Activists sometimes called it the Brard, saying demigods instead of halfbloods - something no one did if they valued their private life.

The Government claimed it was for everyone's safety; the foundation of Olympus Asylum. Everyone including both the ordinary people of society, and the half bloods themselves. In light of past wars, they were right. No one questioned the fact that so many half-bloods entered the Brard, but very few came out. Olympus Asylum was there for wayward half-bloods to learn to control their talents, camouflage their scent to monsters, and become proper citizens of Society.

Even though there were some half-bloods that didn't go quietly. At high costs.

It was a distant, impersonal image to watch. The events on the screen had no effect on Percy's day to day life as a middle school student. No importance, except maybe as small talk between curious people. Small talk that quickly lost the attention of an ADHD mind.

He was lying on his bed at ten past seven, with a panda pillow pet under his chin, lazily scrolling down the latest assignment on his laptop. The T.V chattered to his left; another terrorist attack. His brain committed suicide shortly after reading "Question 1: what are...", and now stares at it in a blur of sleepy disinterest.

His dyslexia made the letters vibrate on the screen, "I can't even read this," He muttered.

After a couple more pages, his cheek found the back of his hand, and he fell asleep.

* * *

Percy found himself at the beach, lazily skipping stones along the glassy sea. He felt unnerved, he knew the sea was not suppose to be that docile. The waves were lapping the sand, the rim of white foam struggling to reach him. A storm was brewing in the sky. He heard screams on the wind behind him. He kept skipping stones, trying to ignore them. When the sea foam managed to touch his toes, it stuck to them like a frothy web. They engulfed his feet, bubbling and fizzying. He stumbles away from the sea with his new pair of foam socks. They traveled up his legs and caused him to fall on his bum. A wave suddenly crashes over him; embracing him before retreating.

Power swelled inside of him, like someone had switched the _on_ button in his core. The glassy waters became a spastic storm of waves and whirlpools and tornadoes. With his new found energy, he rose, and the world around him formed a strange sort of suction at his movement.

He jolted awake and punched himself in the tooth.

With a new found hate for his many sleeping habbits, he rolled on his side groaning into his bedsheets. The door bell rang cheerfully down the hall.

"Coming! Hold on!" He got up to answer the door, sucking on his sore tooth and shaking the sting from his hand.

The door bell kept ringing, sometimes repeating over itself. Whoever was at the door was frantic.

Grover burst in with a forced grin and shell shocked eyes. Percy had the air squeezed out of his lungs from his hug.

"Hey~, easy there. What's up?" Percy laughed nervously.

"Just dropping by..."

Grover limped to the window and peered out. The street lamps of New York turned his mopy curls bright orange. His pupils dilated, and for a moment, they seemed slit, like a goat's.

Percy went to tap his frienjd on the shoulder, "Hello? Grover? What's up, man? Why so tense?"

Grover flinched away before squeaking, "what? Oh nothing. It's nothing. Just walking in the streets at this time, you know? Got me jittery. I get like that. I'm a coward, ha-ha. What about you, wassup?"

"Not much I've just been working on my ho-..."

"That's great! Listen, Percy. How 'bout you come over my place for tonight? The families away, you know, and I'd really like some company. I also don't want you here alone."

Percy frowned, before chuckling, "I appreciate the concern, but mums coming home soon anyways. Why don't _you_ stay over _here?_ She'd be glad to-..."

"No!" Grover suddenly exclaimed, "I mean, nah. No. Uh...I'd prefer to be at home, you know? I'd hate to bother you guys. Let's just go."

Percy raised an eyebrow but said alright. He would've asked more questions, but Grover was already packing Percy's bag for him. Percy went to text his mum but Grover took it away and said he'd call her for him. Next thing he knew, Grover's out the door with his bag.

Percy followed.

* * *

The night air was cold and dewy, and Percy had taken his backpack upon his own shoulders. He didn't want Grover to trouble himself with Percy's burdens, what with the disease in his legs.

Grover was very clearly agitated. Whenever a car drove by his loud breathing would catch in his throat. When the car passed, he exhaled a cloud of white and continued on towards his house.

"So what's the problem?" Percy asked.

"Problem? No problem. Ju-just scared shitless of being alone is all," Grover flashed a sheepish grin, before getting out a cigarette and lighting it up.

Percy snorted, still not completely fooled, "Fair enough. Though you seemed very desperate. So something's got to be up."

Grover looked thoughtful in the dim light of his cigarette. Thoughtful, and in a fragile state of nerve.

"Come on, man. Tell me," Percy pleaded.

They walked on for a couple of strides, silent. Grover kept sucking his cigarette, while Percy breathed his faux smoke.

In the end, he looked up through the dimness at the last strips of dusk and said, "The horizon looks pretty cool tonight."

Percy followed Grover's line of sight. Horizon's are pretty things that Percy never paid much attention too. In the big city, there was no time for gazing at sunsets, if you can even make it out through the fog, that is. The closest thing to a romantic beach setting that Percy's ever gotten is his desktop background...and increasingly vivid dreams.

Back at home, he can imagine that laptop in the same place he left it. On his bed.

He had no idea that he'd never touch that laptop ever again. It'll stay there, stuck on the same assignment. Hell, he didn't even turn the T.V off.

It was while he was trying to figure out why Grover was so lousily changing the topic that Grover stopped dead in his tracks.

A man was walking towards them up the footpath. He wore a fedora and a fluro yellow rain jacket, the type worn by policemen and lolly-pop ladies. Despite his attire, he was a big, intimidating bloke who radiated an aura of authority. He seemed normal enough, passable as an ordinary man walking home from work late in the afternoon.

Except his eyes glowed an unnatural yellow in the shadow of his face, as bright as his jacket.

"Let's take a short cut," Grover whimpered, and pulled Percy across the street. Illegally jay walking.

The man crossed the street as well. He sped up his steps to a fast walk.

Grover's limps made him seem like he was oddly galloping, as he practically dragged Percy by the collar. Percy tore his hand away and sped up himself. The man was definitely following them.

They came across a park and chose to cross the grass. They were eager to get to the safety of Grover's house.

It was at the fountain, in the middle of the park, that they were ambushed.

Like fireflies leaping out from tall grass, a dozen brightly-vested men manifested from between the shadowy trees. Grover stumbled to a stop, while Percy skidded. Their heart-rates picked up and adrenaline coursed through Percy's blood.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit..." Grover whimpered, "Percy, what do we do!?"

"I wouldn't know!" He hissed, before cringing at the sound of himself.

Multiple scenarios flicked through his brain. None were positive, no outcomes ended with everyone going home happy. It was then that Percy recognized the symbol on their vests. A symmetrical black shape resembling a bull.

The officers of Olympus Asylum.

Percy yelled the first thing that came to mind;

_"We're not half-bloods!"_

They all paused, tilting their heads in unison. A long pause. Then they straightened,

"One of you is," Said an officer with a bushy beard. They all advanced on the young boys.

One grabbed Grover before either noticed the man had gotten so close. Percy immediately lashed out. With the two of them struggling hard enough, Grover was freed, but the man was suddenly on Percy. Than another joined in.

Percy rolled under their legs when they tried to grab him. They were huge men. After the third time they learned the tactics of his game of rolley-polley and caught him by the effective maneuver of sitting down. Percy all air escaped his lungs in a big huff, and his ribs squished painfully between a big hard ass and even harder stone. They pulled him up and grabbed him by his limbs. five of them surrounding him and one got out a syringe. Percy struggled to no avail.

The syringe pierced his thigh.

Grover came to the rescue with his belt. The man with the syringe cried out in pain following the sound of a cracking whip. Like an abusive drunk who just lost the lottery, Grover lashed out and beat their backs raw.

"Let! Him! Go!" Delivering a satisfying 'crack!" with each word.

They all dropped Percy with an "oomph" and turned their undivided attention to their wannabe tamer.

Grover went pale, fluffy chin quivering.

They advanced and he bleated like a petrified goat. He whipped his belt around, frantically crying, "Back! Back! _Back, you foul beasts!"_

He stumbled, a shoe went flying to reveal...a hoof. The men stood straight. The one in the fedora reached down and easily tore Grover's pants off, revealing his goat-y hind quarters.

"A satyr. Of course," He said turning, "That means this one is the half-blood. Kill the goat. Bring the boy."

They pulled out their creamy white nightsticks, and raised them high, ready to strike down on Grover's head.

Percy, blearily lying there with a half-emptied syringe still stuck in his leg, could barely understand what was going on.

A hoof...satyr...no pants...fluffy butt...kill the goat...kill the goat...Kill...the goat...

No one's killing any goats on Percy's watch.

He drunkenly got on his hands and knees as he felt a hard tug in his stomach. Just as the nightsticks were being brought down, the fountain exploded.


End file.
